


Nenya

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Celeborn's reaction to Nenya is not pleasing to Galadriel.





	Nenya

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Bird, Vi, Nui, and Britt for the ideas brought forth that led to this. More of a character study/scene than a fic with a plot.

Celeborn paced in front of his wife while she sat on the sofa, not so secretly admiring the glimmer of the stone that adorned the ring she wore. Her husband’s gaze wandered to the insignificant looking piece of jewelry, flittering away as if the gleam of the stone burned like looking upon the sun did. Finally, he stopped, standing in front of her. “You cannot keep it,” he said firmly as he towered over her. “You are going to have to give it back.”

As he reached for it, Galadriel drew her hand in, fisting it, and covering it with the other. “I will not. It was a gift. It would be rude to return it.”

“Then gift it to someone else,” suggested Celeborn.

Galadriel looked up, her head still down so that she glared at him more than anything else. “It was made for me.”

“You cannot keep it,” responded Celeborn sternly. He made another grab for it, but she twisted her wrist out of his grasp and slapped his hand away.

“The ring is mine!”

Celeborn stood up straight and looked down upon her, regarding her with something akin to pity. He shook his head and paced again, taking himself across the room to a countertop with a few crystal bottles filled with liquor, appearing in the candlelight to be large brightly colored gems lining the counter. He lifted one of the faux jewels, lifted the stopper from it, and poured it into a glass, filling it halfway.

Galadriel lifted her hand up again, letting the light graze the facets and cast shadows onto the walls. “You are just jealous,” she said to him as he turned around, leaning against the counter. “Jealous you did not receive one. You would take it from me if you had the chance.”

“You are delusional.”

“Then why are you trying to take it from me? What are you going to do with it once you have it?”

He swirled the liquor in the glass to warm it. “I do not know. For certain, it is not staying here.”

“You say that now, but once you have it... no, it must stay with me.”

Celeborn closed his eyes in frustration. He turned around, placed the glass back on the counter and picked up the bottle. The glass was filled the rest of the way, nearly to the brim. He quietly sipped his drink, allowing it to calm him down. “Do you do this to test me, or because you are just so blind you cannot see the evil that could come from this?”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Galadriel. “Instead of fussing over what might happen if it falls into the wrong hands, you should be dwelling on the possibilities. Do you know what I can do with this? The power I hold in my hand is greater than... well, far more than you can imagine,” she adamantly declared.

“Try me. I have quite the imagination.”

The tips of her fingers caressed the stone with the gentle grace of a lover. “Control over water. All the water that flows in the rivers and fills the lakes; all that drops from the sky and the waterfalls, from morning dew to evening mist.”

Celeborn refilled the glass, gulping down the contents before once again filling it. “And what does Ulmo have to say about that?”

Galadriel narrowed her eyes. Her breath came into her chest fast and sharp, and her chin pointed out with disdain. “Ulmo long deserted our people.”

“Maybe he deserted your people, but I would still rather place my fate in his hands than—“ Celeborn drank down the rest of the alcohol as Galadriel stood up abruptly.

“Than what, Celeborn?” She placed her hands on her hips, appearing beautiful and yet frighteningly distant from him. “Finish what you were saying.”

He cocked one eyebrow high. “Giving me commands now, are you? I see,” he said when she made no answer. “You know what I was going to say; actually saying the words will not change them or make them sting any less. I would apologize, but I fear it would fall upon the deaf ears of one who is newly blinded by the power she thinks she has gained.”

“I do not simply think I have, Celeborn. I have, and as I said, you are jealous.”

The alcohol was making him warm, and he wiped his hand across his forehead, letting it drift back through his hair. “I would remind you that, unless the curse has been unknowingly lifted, that this, too, shall come to ruin, but there is no reasoning with you.” He picked up the bottle and carried it and the glass into the bedroom with him. “Maybe you will change your mind and come to your senses in the morning. Good night.” The door was shut, and Galadriel did not think much of it until she heard the click of the lock.

It only took a few long strides to reach the door. She tried to turn the knob, but it would not budge. “Celeborn?” She knocked, three times gently, three times harder, and finally, banged with insistence. “Celeborn! Open this door now!”

Silence.

“Celeborn! I will not be ignored! That is my room, too!” 

Nothing.

“If you do not let me in, I shall scream!”

At first, there was still no answer, but as she took in a deep breath, Celeborn chuckled on the other side of the door and shouted back, “Go ahead. I look forward to seeing the guard’s faces when they arrive. I want to hear you try to explain it to them.”

With a stomp of her foot, Galadriel took herself to the bar and yanked a glass stopper from one of the bottles. She threw it onto the countertop and picked up a glass, only to slam it back down in another spot a moment later. After pouring her drink, she picked up the stopper, only to find a large chunk was chipped from the top. She shoved it back into the bottle and downed the liquor. She coughed a little from the burn in her throat, but finished it.

Back to the door she went. She gave it a light tap. “Celeborn? Please let me in.” She knocked again. “I just want to talk to you. Please?”

“You just want to come in so you can chase me out because there are no pillows on the couch.”

Galadriel fought for a better excuse, but when you are an Elf, and joined in such an intimate way to your mate, lying is more difficult than it is for mortals.

“Yes, I thought so,” said Celeborn. “Good night.”

She kicked the bottom of the door. “Fine, then. Sleep in there without me!”

“I intend to.”

“Just wait until tomorrow!”

“All I can do is wait. Talking about it will not make tomorrow come any faster.”

With a frustrated growl, Galadriel went back to the couch and sat down hard on the offensive piece of furniture. It had been a long and tiring day, and she had been looking forward to the new sheets Celeborn had purchased. She had seen them earlier, watched the maid put them on the bed, and even took a moment to drift into the bedroom, push back the duvet, and knead the cool and refreshing cream-colored covers. They practically made her purr at the time, and now, dammit it all, he was probably sliding between them right now, rubbing his cheek against the smooth pillowcases. He was probably doing it spitefully, too, since he likely had no idea just how luxurious they really were. 

Damn him. 

Damn him!

“I heard that,” called out Celeborn. “Now, if you please, I am trying to get some sleep.”

Galadriel crossed her arms over her chest. She would have shouted some sort of insult back to him, but he was hardly worth it. A flicker of the candlelight brought her eye to the sparkle on her finger, and the next few minutes were spent admiring the ring again. It might have seemed somewhat plain compared to most Noldorin pieces, which was part of the beauty of it. No one would ever guess something so small and insignificant was so precious and powerful.

There were no sheets or blankets in the sitting room, but there was a small throw on the arm of the chair. Galadriel retrieved it and undressed, leaving her dress draped over the chair where the throw had previously been. The fabric of the couch was a little rougher than she would have liked, but it was still Elven weave, and still comfortable enough. The throw was much too small to cover with, so she folded it up to use as a pillow. After blowing out the candles in the room, she laid down on the couch, determined to have a good rest in spite of being locked out of the bedroom.

The quiet and darkness gave her a time and place for her thoughts to wander and assess the current situation. Celeborn was upset, and probably with good reason. If he had even the slightest idea that Celebrimbor was infatuated with Galadriel, it was cause enough for his irritation. However, his concerns appeared to built around the idea that in the wrong hands, this new power was a danger. In the wrong hands, yes, but in her hands...

Even in the darkness, she could see the glint of it on her finger. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps it was wrong to capture such power to be wielded, but now that it had been done, what else was there to do? If she did not accept it, then someone else would, and there was no reason why she should not have it. She deserved it, after all. It seemed only right after all she and her dear brothers had endured. It would have been wrong not to take it.

Wearily, she talked herself back into the idea that she was right and he was wrong. She fell into an uneasy slumber, thoughts of ways she would revitalize the realms of her kin mingled with the worries her husband had presented.

Someone lifting her head brought her out of the dream world. As her eyes cleared, she saw the silhouette of Celeborn hovering over her. He settled her head back down on the pillow he had brought out of the bedroom for her and now draped the sheet over her as well.

She started to sit up, but Celeborn put his hand upon her shoulder and eased her back down. “We can talk in the morning.” He tucked the sheet around her and said, “I think you are going to appreciate this more than I.” Then he placed his hands upon her cheeks and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and another to her lips. “Sleep well,” he said before going back into the bedroom.

Galadriel considered following him until she heard the bedroom door being locked again. With a sigh, she wiped away a stray tear. As right as he probably was, more than anything, she hated to be wrong.


End file.
